In an instant, several realizations collapsed down onto Artemis.
First, the distant form was a man.
She could just make out his outline in the brightening light.
Second, he thought her a poacher.
But those two facts weren’t what had the breath caught in her lungs and her heart attempting to pound free of her ribcage.
That voice.
Deep … resonant … collected.
A voice she hadn’t heard in ten years.
A feeling lit to life inside her.
Not fear.
Not shame.
But …outrage.
That voice was not only proof of his continuation amongst the living, but of his audacity—his sheer audacity to behere, sharing the same air as her.
It was this outrage that had an audacity of her own stirring and sparking words into the air. “Don’t you remember me, Lord Branwell? Or mayhap you’ve forgotten?”
For all the heat bursting through her, her voice was cold as Arctic air.
She should stop there.
Of course, she continued. “Or did the time we spent together leave no lasting impression on you?”
Oh, but they were hot, audacious words she spoke through her frigidity.
She would likely come to regret them.
But that regret could wait for a future moment.
In this moment, they felt good—so good—and righteous andright.
CHAPTER TWO
That voice.
The low contralto with a subtle rasp that edged along every word it spoke.
The words it uttered.
The past it evoked.
Lady Artemis Keating.
Bran knew it down to the cells that composed his very being.
Ten.
The number of years that voice had traveled through time to reach him here, at this very point in the universe.
